An Awakening Touch
by alatariel-gildaen
Summary: Katniss, a popular cabaret singer, has to stop smoking before her self-destructive habit ends her career. While seeking hypnotherapy, she finds more than she had set out to in Peeta, a handsome tattoo artist needing therapy for his own reasons.


**A/N - This fic was inspired by the recent Everlark Drabble Challenge on tumblr. My dear friend Baronesskika challenged me with the prompt '_The Worst Things in Life,_' and this oneshot has been born from it. Thank you, m'dear, for initially putting this Peeta in my head! This is dedicated to you :)**

**And of course a million kudos have to go to Court81981 for making the mess I sent her into something readable and coherent. You're an absolute blessing to this fandom!**

**TRIGGER WARNING - contains mention of real life terrorist events**

**Please leave a review, and come say hello on tumblr - my username is alatarielgildaen.**

**Thanks all!**

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><p><em>Move,<em> she thought. _Move. One foot in front of the other. Push the door open. Do it. Move._

Katniss had been stood on the pavement, looking at the front door of The Aurelius Hypnotherapy Clinic for at least ten minutes, ignoring the impatient _tuts _from passers-by who jostled her on their way past. She had already tried to force herself to go inside the building earlier in the day. When she had been unable to move forward, she had turned on the spot and taken a forty-minute power walk. And now she had returned and found herself in the same predicament.

She reached inside her handbag and withdrew a packet of cigarettes, cursing to herself as she placed yet another one between her lips. These bloody things were the reason she was here, considering hypnotherapy, in the first place. She'd taken up the habit after her darling sister Prim had been killed in the Jihadis attack on the London Underground.

Katniss, along with countless other people desperate for news of their loved ones had congregated on the pavement outside Russell Square station. She had started talking to an older man, also waiting for news, and he had offered her a cigarette, as well as a pull on his bottle of whisky, to help with the nerves. At first she had refused, but he had convinced her that it would help keep her calm. The first pull of the cigarette had burned her lungs, causing her to cough and splutter, but had also made her giddy and light-headed. The man was right—it had helped with the nerves.

She had seen the relief in his eyes when his wife had finally appeared amongst the crowds, tottering on ridiculously high heels, and collapsed in his arms. "Here, sweetheart," the man had said, handing her the remainder of the packet. "Keep the rest. I hope you find who you're looking for."

She had smoked the rest of the damn things to keep herself occupied as she waited for the inevitable news. Her sister was dead. The worst news in the world, leading to the worst habit in the world. Addiction quickly took hold of her and when depression struck, she found herself chain smoking just to try and occupy her hands and mind.

Prim had always encouraged Katniss to sing. It was Prim who had believed in Katniss' talent and it was entirely for Prim that Katniss had pursued her career, becoming the most popular cabaret singer in the famous Panem nightclub. She was a rich, independent woman now, living a life of luxury, but it destroyed her that Prim wasn't around to see it. And so Katniss punished herself by continuing to smoke, but the years of self-destructive behaviour were taking a toll on her voice.

It was a friend of hers who had suggested hypnotherapy to give her the push to quit, and she had agreed just to shut him up. But if she was honest, the idea of someone messing around inside her head _terrified _her.

Katniss finished her cigarette, throwing it to the ground, angrily driving it down with the ball of her shoe, before she looked up at the sign above the door once more: _The Aurelius Hypnotherapy Clinic._ "Hippy bullshit," she muttered to herself, as she smoothed out the creases in her perfectly tailored jacket, before making her mind up. This just wasn't her. She couldn't go through with it.

"That may be so," said a voice at her side. "But I assure you, it works."

The sudden invasion of her space made her start and she turned to her right. A young man around her own age was stood beside her. She quickly eyed him up and down, taking in the way his white t-shirt was stretched tight across broad shoulders; the utterly stunning and intricate artwork on the sleeve tattoo that covered his entire left arm; the tousled, messed-up blond curls; the unshaven jaw; and the silver gleam just below his bottom lip that hinted at a lip piercing. But most of all she became utterly fixated upon the clear cerulean eyes and the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen on a man.

His sudden appearance by her side disarmed her. She'd never especially found the 'bad boy' look particularly appealing, but there was something about him that was... beautiful. And it annoyed the hell out of her that he'd been able to catch her so off-guard.

"I'm sorry, what?" she snapped.

He shrugged slightly before speaking again. "I'm just saying, hypnotherapy works. Or at least, it has been working for me. You looked nervous about going in, and you've been out here so long, I thought you might like some reassurance."

"You've been watching me?" she spat, backing away from him ever so slightly.

"Not exactly," he laughed. "But you were here, staring up at the sign, when I turned up for my appointment, and still here when I left," he said, shrugging once again. "Peeta," he added, almost like an after thought, as he stuck his hand out towards her.

"Katniss," she said hesitantly, taking his hand in her own and shaking it once. She couldn't help but be taken aback by the incredible warmth from his hand.

"So," he said, "are you going in? Believe me, if it can sort out all my phobias, it can cure anything."

Katniss turned back to the front of the clinic. "I don't know," she answered, pulling out her packet of cigarettes once more and looking down at the little silver box in her hands. "These have been my crutch for so long, I don't know what I'll do without them." She quickly shook herself at her own honesty, and angrily tore one of the white sticks from the packet, placing it between her lips. She lit it and inhaled deeply, unable to look at the handsome man beside her.

"I can understand that," said Peeta. "And you're an adult, you can make your own choices. But you know that you'll be so much better off if you can quit." He cowered slightly under the sudden glare that Katniss shot him. "You don't seem convinced," he chuckled. "I tell you what. Let me buy you a coffee, and I'll explain why there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I don't drink coffee," said Katniss bluntly.

"Hot chocolate, then."

"I don't do chocolate either."

"Beer? Wine?"

"Or alcohol."

"Would it help if I told you I'm just trying to be nice? I'm not asking you out on a date, or anything."

Katniss couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the guy, as that sounded like the worst pick-up line in history, but something in his demeanour made her believe him. "I genuinely don't drink any of those things," she said.

"Why's that?" Peeta asked her.

"Caffeine, chocolate, dairy, sugar, alcohol... they're the worst things in life for your voice. I'm a singer, you see..." she trailed off, aware of the hypocrisy of what she was saying.

Peeta laughed out loud, and Katniss felt affronted for a moment. But he didn't appear to be mocking her; instead his laugh seemed warm, genuine, and supportive. "Worse than smoking?" he said, offering her a cheeky wink. "That's almost as good as a tattooist who develops a phobia of blood and needles."

She looked at him questioningly, and he confirmed her unasked question with a self-deprecating nod, and before she knew it, Katniss was laughing along with him. "Fucking hell," she chuckled. "Those must be pretty much the worst things that a tattooist could be afraid of!"

"Pretty much, yup," he agreed.

Despite herself, Katniss began to be intrigued by the man beside her. "So, how does a fear like that develop?"

Peeta smiled, and Katniss couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth. His smile was so sweet, so genuine, with just a touch of shyness. "That offer still stands," he said. "I'll buy you a drink and tell you everything. Erm... what do you drink?"

"Fruit juice," Katniss replied, feeling herself grow pink in the cheeks.

"Well, I know a great juice bar just around the corner. Give me just ten minutes, and I'll convince you. It's a great way to rid yourself of negativity. The 'worst things in life,' as you put it." He stuck out his arm in a gentlemanly manner, and waited for her to accept his invitation.

She hesitated for just one moment, before she spotted something among the sleeve tattoo on Peeta's arm. Just on the inside of his wrist, a perfectly formed, small, yellow flower caught her eye. A primrose. Katniss quickly swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, and blinked away the sudden tears. It was as if her sister was giving her a sign. Returning her gaze to Peeta, Katniss quietly said, "Sure. I'll allow it," before interlinking her arm with his, and letting him lead the way.

He grinned a lopsided smile and started to march down the street with a rather uneven gait, while Katniss easily stayed by his side, ducking and weaving amongst the crowds. Every now and again she would steal a glance at the man by her side. The part of her brain that distrusted strangers that had gone into overdrive since Prim's death screamed at her to be careful, but she quickly silenced it. She wasn't sure why, but she felt that she could trust Peeta implicitly.

He certainly hadn't been lying when he'd said the bar was just around the corner. Within just a couple of minutes, Katniss found herself in the pristine bar, ordering an energy-blast juice for each of them. Peeta insisted on paying, and Katniss argued against him, eventually only allowing it when he agreed that she could buy the next round. She took a seat as he paid, and took the opportunity to scrutinise him once more.

The tattoo covering his arm vanished under his taut, white t-shirt, and Katniss couldn't help but wonder how much of his body was covered with artwork. She could see the muscles in his back moving under his shirt and she had the sudden urge to run her hand over him. It had been a long time since she'd felt the touch of another person. Her eyes drifted lower, coming to rest on a perfectly pert backside, and that urge to run her hands over him intensified.

She shifted her attention back to his tattoo. Just visible under the sleeve of his t-shirt was a perfect image of a night sky. The rich, deep navy blue lightened further down his arm, blending into a stunning sunset around the crook of his elbow. The rays from the golden sun spread out further down his forearm, which showed a lush, verdant meadow growing poppies, bluebells, dandelions, and daisies, as well as the beautiful primroses that had caught her eye.

Peeta finished paying and returned to her side, setting the juice in front of her and taking a seat. "I was just thinking, this is probably quite weird for you."

Katniss snorted as she accepted the drink. "You could say that."

"Yeah. Strange man picks you up outside a therapy clinic and insists on talking to you about why it's a good idea. It's the sort of thing friends do. Not strangers."

It was almost as if he could read her mind. Even though she had decided that she trusted him, the whole scenario was…peculiar to say the least.

"So," continued Peeta, "I thought that before we got down to the nitty-gritty, maybe we should start small."

A ghost of a smile flickered over Katniss' lips. "I only promised you ten minutes to convince me to be put into some crazy trance."

"I see," nodded Peeta. "So you want to get right down to the deep stuff straight away?"

"Nine minutes," said Katniss, as she picked up her juice and sucked on the straw. She couldn't help but notice how Peeta's eyes drifted to her lips, nor how his Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

"Nine minutes," he repeated, nodding slightly. "The deep stuff it is, then. What's your favourite colour?"

She couldn't help but laugh. Instead of answering, her eyes roamed over the lower half of his sleeve, until they found the exact shade of forest green that she had pictured in her mind. Silently, she pointed the colour out, as the corners of Peeta's mouth upturned in a slight smile. "You?" she asked.

He pointed towards the sunset on his arm, his finger resting over the muted orange sky, and Katniss returned his smile.

"Well, we now know one-hundred percent more facts about each other than we did before," said Peeta. "Does that make us friends yet? Should I get started?"

Katniss risked a glance at her watch. "Eight minutes," she said, barely keeping a straight face.

"Ok, where should I begin?"

"I guess at the beginning. Why did you decide to get hypnotherapy?"

He stirred his juice with his straw and grinned, and Katniss swore that for a split second she could see a glint of silver inside his mouth. _He had his tongue pierced._ The realisation caused a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, I guess I can trace it all back to my accident," he said, looking up at her.

"Accident?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I came off my bike a couple of years ago."

"Ouch," winced Katniss. "Not badly, I hope."

"Pretty badly," he confirmed. "I didn't make it out unscathed, we'll put it that way."

Katniss raised an eyebrow at the rather cryptic comment, and in response, Peeta placed his juice down on the granite-effect table, then bent over and rolled up the right leg of his jeans, showing an artificial limb underneath.

"Fuck," Katniss hissed. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Peeta shrugged. "I've got another one. At least I didn't lose something I only have one of. That would have been a tragedy."

Katniss felt heat flood her cheeks at the insinuation. She cleared her throat to try to cover her embarrassment, and if Peeta had noticed anything, he did not mention it. "So," continued Katniss. "How did it happen?"

"Some fucking moron decided to overtake the car in front of him on the motorway without indicating and without checking his mirrors. I swerved to avoid getting hit, but it was too sudden. I don't really remember much about the accident itself; I just know that I lost control of the bike. Then all I remember is flitting in and out of consciousness at the side of the road. I remember a family trying to help me before the ambulance arrived." He paused for a moment and sucked at his straw, before a dark smile crossed his face. "How morbid is your humour?"

"I don't know. I mean, I can take a joke. Try me."

Peeta took one more sip before continuing. "I'd already lost my leg at that point. As the bike toppled, my foot became tangled in it, and it literally tore my leg from the socket. I have this memory where this lady had my leg in her arms, and she was saying to her husband how she was going to put it in the freezer bag with the peas and chips until the ambulance arrived. And it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. I was clearly delirious, but I was howling with laughter."

Katniss blanched somewhat at his words. She'd never been good with blood at all, and the thought of someone just carrying a body part around, putting it in a bag to keep it cold…. She shuddered at the thought. "That's pretty sick," she said, but despite herself, she couldn't help but chuckle nervously.

"I know," grinned Peeta, "but have you ever heard of anything more ridiculously English in your life? '_Chin up, it's really not that bad. Put a bag of frozen peas on it, love, it'll be alright.'_ I kept thinking about that scene in _Monty Python. _ I think I might have even tried to tell them it was 'just a flesh wound.' They must have thought I was insane, the amount I was laughing. Then I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember, I was already in the hospital."

"Shit," breathed Katniss. Words had never been her strong point, but she was at a complete loss for what to say.

"Yeah. My whole family were there and after an afternoon of them alternatively fussing over me, and lecturing me on how they'd always known bikes were dangerous, I was left alone for the night. On a chair, in the corner of the room was my bike helmet. And there was a trickle of blood on it. And the sight of it… That's when the severity of what happened hit me. I started crying and didn't stop for hours."

Katniss leaned forward in her seat, because although his story was horrifying, she was mesmerised by it.

"Anyway," he continued, "I think it was the sight of my own blood on my helmet that sowed that initial seed. At first I was determined that I wasn't going to let anything hold me back, and I went back to work as soon as I could, and everything was absolutely fine for a while. Then, after several months, this guy came in wanting me to do a large piece on his back, and in the centre of it, he wanted his bike helmet. And I was doing it, and of course it bled slightly, and it just…" Peeta shuddered at the memory. "I didn't want to continue, but I was right in the middle of the piece. I couldn't just stop."

He paused and took a slow sip at his juice, while Katniss said in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "Anyway, I started getting more and more of these weird…panic attacks while I was working. Every time I saw blood, I'd feel faint and nauseous, and then I slowly began to associate that feeling with the needles I work with, until I couldn't face going in to work anymore. And like you said before, a tattooist with a fear of blood and needles isn't going to get far. I tried counselling, and that did fuck all. And I was in the middle of psychotherapy, which incidentally wasn't really getting me anywhere either, when a mate suggested hypnotherapy. I've only had two sessions, and my therapist thinks I'll only need one more, and I've already noticed a massive improvement. I practised on myself the other day with no problems at all, so I think I'm just about ready to go back to work. Three sessions to turn my life around, Katniss. Just three hours of my life, and in exchange, I get my life back. And the therapy itself is nothing to be scared of. It's just a deep state of relaxation, and you get taken to a safe place, and it's not like you forget the trauma at all; it just gets put in a place where it can't hurt you anymore."

Tears suddenly swam in Katniss' eyes. Every day for the past nine years she had thought about Prim. The pain of losing her, of knowing the terribly violent death that she had suffered, cut deeply every single day. And Katniss never did want to forget that. She just wished that it didn't hurt as much as it did. She quickly wiped her face with a napkin before Peeta could notice that anything was amiss.

"Well?" he asked her. "Did I manage to keep it to ten minutes?"

She glanced once more at her watch. "Give or take a minute or two," she said.

"And?"

Katniss thought hard for a moment. Finnick, one of the other singers at The Panem, had suggested the hypnotherapy purely as a means to give up smoking. Katniss hadn't really taken even that idea seriously and had certainly never considered it as a means of helping her deal with the pain in her past. But Peeta had proven to be a very persuasive man. She felt overcome with emotion towards Prim, and nodded her affirmation towards Peeta. As she did so, she suddenly felt unable to contain the tears for a moment longer, and with a great, heaving sob, they started to fall.

"Hey," said Peeta, standing up and moving closer towards her. She became aware of him enveloping her within his strong arms, of his innate warmth, and his sweet, spicy scent, and she pressed her face further into his chest as her breathing hitched further. "Please don't cry. I didn't want to make you cry."

She allowed him to hold her, his splayed hand gently cradling the back of her head, until the tears ran dry. "I'm sorry," she said, finally coming up for air. "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise," he said. "But I'm going to hazard a guess that there's more to this than just giving up the cigs, am I right?"

Katniss nodded and sniffed loudly. She could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her, and her cheeks burned. Suddenly she wanted to be away from the juice bar and everyone in there, including Peeta. She had opened up to him far too much and had left herself exposed and vulnerable, and she _hated _herself for it. Quickly snatching up her handbag, she broke free of Peeta's gentle arms. "I have to go," she said abruptly. "Thanks for the drink. And for…everything."

Without a second thought, she stormed past him, and back to the hustle and bustle of London's busy streets. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the confusion and hurt in Peeta's eyes, but she shook the feeling away. She had to take care of herself. For Prim.

Within two minutes, she was in the reception of the Aurelius Hypnotherapy Clinic, booking an initial consultation.

* * *

><p>It had been five weeks since she'd last had a cigarette. The first session with Dr Aurelius had lasted an hour and a half. And at the end of it, Dr Aurelius had invited her to go outside and light up if she wanted. She walked outside, placed a cigarette between her lips, and found that she simply didn't want to light it. She tore the stick from her mouth and crumpled the remaining cigarettes in her first, then threw the lot in the bin, confident that she wouldn't be needing them again.<p>

For the trauma of Prim's death, Dr Aurelius had recommended an initial six sessions, possibly extending to nine, depending on how well she responded to therapy. And so far, she seemed to be responding well. Dr Aurelius had explained that she wasn't allowing Prim, or the circumstances of her death, to enter Katniss' long-term memory bank. Instead, Prim stayed in short-term memory, keeping the horror of all the bombs that day fresh. It was just a case of allowing those memories to pass over, so the wounds could heal. She felt a little guilty for storming out on Peeta, particularly considering how much her life had improved as a result of him convincing her to go ahead with therapy, but there was very little she could do about that.

Katniss was just leaving one of the most successful rehearsals she had ever had. Her voice, already pitch-perfect, had gone from strength to strength in the weeks since she had stopped smoking. She strolled down the street, not paying much attention to where she was going, and quietly singing to herself to remember the latest song in her repertoire, when she walked straight into another person.

"I'm so sorry," she said, not looking up, and side-stepping around them.

"Katniss?"

She looked up at the other person and suddenly was face to face with the man who had been behind every other waking thought of hers for the past six weeks. He wore a white v-neck t-shirt, with a deep red plaid shirt over it, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He had been unshaven before, but now it looked like the growth of at least a couple of weeks on his strong jawline. Katniss' heart skipped several beats. He was even more handsome in the flesh than in her memory. "Peeta?"

"How have you been?" he asked her, his voice oddly stiff and formal.

"Good, thank you. Really good."

"Did you…?"

"See Dr Aurelius? I did. Thanks to you."

He nodded and looked away from her, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Look," said Katniss. "I'm really sorry for running away. And I owe you for the drink."

"You don't owe me," said Peeta quietly.

"I do," said Katniss firmly. "You…well…you kinda saved me. I owe you. Do you fancy a drink?"

He nodded once again, still not really looking at her. "Sure," he said. "I'll go with you."

This time Katniss took the lead, taking him to a nearby pub. "What are you having?" she asked him.

"Stella, please," he said.

She ordered the lager for Peeta, and an apple and mango juice for herself before leading Peeta through the back to a secluded pub garden, taking a seat on one of the benches.

"Thanks," said Peeta, taking a long, slow swig from his pint glass.

"Look, I really am sorry for running out on you. I mean it. It was incredibly rude of me."

"Why did you do it?" he asked, finally looking her in the eyes. The same hurt she had seen on him when she first ran away had returned.

She picked at the label on the bottle of juice. "Ask me another time," she replied softly, not feeling quite ready to talk about her sister.

After a moment, something in his expression seemed to soften, and he shook his head to himself. "Sorry for prying," he said. "And I'm sorry for acting so wounded. It's really none of my business. Maybe we could start again?"

"I'd like that," she replied.

He drank another large gulp of beer. "So, did it work? The hypnotherapy, I mean?"

"I haven't smoked in five weeks, so it looks that way."

"That's great!" he enthused.

"How about you? Did you get over your fears?"

"I think so," he said.

"You _think _so?"

"Yeah. I mean, I haven't _actually _tattooed anyone else yet. But I think it'd be ok."

"Why haven't you?"

"I don't have a job at the moment. The last studio I worked at couldn't keep me on while I wasn't able to work. But I'll keep looking. That's why I'm out at the moment. Been taking my portfolio round a few of the better studios, so hopefully I'll hear back from at least one of them."

"How are you surviving?" she asked.

"A mixture of dole money and savings at the moment. I just hope something comes up soon, the job centre keeps wanting to send me to interviews for really mundane jobs, and I'm really worried I might actually get one!"

She chuckled at his easy humour. "Have you got your own equipment?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "That's how I've been able to at least practise on myself. Anyway," he said, looking her straight in the eye. Katniss felt her stomach do a somersault under his appraising gaze. "Enough about me. What about you? You're a singer, right?"

"You remembered?"

"Yup. A singer whose favourite colour is green. See, I remembered everything about you."

She felt her cheeks go pink. "You joke, but there's really not much more to know," she said.

"Oh, I doubt that," he grinned. "Where do you sing?"

"I have a residency at The Panem."

Peeta had been taking a sip of his lager, but at her words, he started to cough and splutter. "No fucking way!" he exclaimed. "You're shitting me, right?"

"No," said Katniss, a little taken aback.

"Don't get me wrong," said Peeta, holding his hands up in a placatory manner. "It's just… most people who say they're a singer, basically just wail a few songs as the front person of their mates' band. That's not _actually _their job. But… fuck me! Wow! You must be good. Better than good. You must be amazing!"

"You should come and see me sometime," Katniss said.

Peeta's pale skin instantly flushed red, and under his messy hair she could see that even the tips of his ears had turned pink. "Maybe," he said, noncommittally.

Katniss was hurt by the dismissal. "But hey," she snapped, "if you're too _cool _to watch cabaret, I understand."

"Is that what you think?" he asked her, a little sadly. "Look at me, Katniss. I just meant that I'm hardly the type of clientele they welcome with open arms. If they'd actually allow me through the front door, I'd _love _to watch you perform."

"Then it's a date," Katniss said, instantly regretting her choice of words when Peeta cocked an eyebrow at her. "I just mean… I sing every Thursday and Saturday. So… whenever you want to come… If I tell them to let you in, they'll let you in. They aren't going to risk upsetting their star performer."

"It's a date," he echoed.

An awkward silence followed. Katniss thought for a moment about those words, and what they could possibly mean. But there was no way he would ever go for a girl like her. He'd already shown her how uncomfortable he would feel surrounded by the everyday trappings of her life.

And yet there was a part of her that wanted him to be a part of that life. She couldn't deny how handsome he was, and he was so… _different _from every other guy she had ever dated, both in physical appearance and demeanour. She'd always dated clean-looking, classic gents in suits and smart clothes, who all invariably turned out to be complete arseholes. Peeta was the exact opposite in every single way.

Suddenly, Katniss found herself fighting the urge to reach forward and touch him, to run her fingers over his unshaven chin, to feel the cool metal of the stud below his lip under her fingertips. And then she wanted to explore him further, to appreciate every piece of artwork on his body, to know how the stud in his tongue would feel as it caressed her own tongue and other…more intimate places.

"Anyway," said Katniss, bringing herself back to the present, lest her filthy mind go wandering again, "back to you for a bit. I can see two piercings. Got any more?"

His pint was halfway raised to his lips, and he paused in his action, looking her straight in the eye. He raised one eyebrow very slightly, before dropping his gaze down to his own lap, then returning his eyes to meet hers. He gave her a very subtle wink then took a large sip of his pint.

Katniss' own eyes widened at his insinuation. "No way!" she hissed, uncertain whether to be repelled or turned on by this new divulgence.

"Yeah, my belly button," he said innocently. "What, you didn't think I meant—" he began, stopping abruptly when Katniss playfully shoved him. "Why, do you want me to? I'll do it if you want me to."

"No!" she said, certain that her face was now giving off enough to heat to fry an egg. "Let's just…let's change the subject, ok? So... work… Why don't you set up your own studio if you can't find work elsewhere?"

Peeta sighed deeply. "I'd love to one day. I just need the capital to get it started. And I'm worried that if I go too long without inking someone else, I'll forget how to do it."

"Then do me," Katniss said, amazed by the words that fell so easily from her lips, and not even vaguely embarrassed by the obvious double entendre_. _

"What?" said Peeta, looking amazed.

"I'm serious," Katniss replied. "You can do me."

"What would you want?" he asked.

Katniss' eyes darted automatically to a spot on his forearm, the spot that made her trust him in the first place. "A primrose," she said. "Nothing too big or ostentatious. And it would have to be somewhere it can be easily covered."

"I think I can just about manage that," said Peeta.

"Ok, then," she said. "Let's go."

"Now?" he asked her. "You do realise they're permanent, right? Not something you should just rush into?"

"I know," said Katniss. "And I've been thinking about this for the last nine years."

"Ok, then." He stood up and held his hand out towards her. Katniss ignored the nerves and accepted his help in standing up. This was a far better way of honouring her sister's memory than the past nine years of bitterness and self-destruction had been.

Peeta lived in Shoreditch, just a quick bus ride away, and by the time they got to his dingy front door, Katniss was considering asking Peeta for a shot of something to help the mounting nervousness, despite her self-imposed 'no alcohol' rule.

His living room was tiny; looking around the cramped flat, Katniss couldn't help but think that the entire flat would probably fit into her Chelsea kitchen. The room already contained an occupant: a petite brunette with spiky brown hair was lounging on the two seat sofa, watching the television with her feet up on the coffee table, bottle of beer in hand. She was wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of denim shorts and a striped green-and-white bikini top. The entire right side of her body was covered with a beautiful design of a cherry blossom tree, and Katniss couldn't help but wonder if Peeta's hand had created it.

"Jo, I'm gonna need the living room," Peeta said to the woman.

"After _Eastenders,_" she replied, not taking her eyes from the TV for even a second.

"Katniss, this is Jo. My cell-mate."

Katniss guffawed at Peeta's joke, and at the sound of Katniss' laugh, Jo looked up sharply, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Well, well, well, Peeta. Good to see you back in the game. God knows it's been long enough since I've been acquainted with the sound of screaming coming from your room."

Katniss' face flooded with colour, but Peeta ignored his flatmate's jibes. "She's here for a tatt, Jo. I'll need to use the living room. Make yourself comfortable," he said to Katniss. "I'll be back soon."

She collapsed into an oversized beanbag on the floor, feeling uncomfortable from the brunette's intense scrutiny.

"You don't look like the type for ink," she said.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," replied Katniss, causing Jo to snicker with amusement.

Moments later, Peeta returned with a sketch pad and sat down at a small dining table in the corner of the room. "First things first," he said, putting on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and opening the pad of paper. "I want to make sure we get the design absolutely right. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Erm… just a primrose."

"Just the flower itself? A single flower? More than one? Do you want the flower to have a stem and leaves? Any writing around or near it?"

Katniss was very nearly overwhelmed by so many questions. "Just keep it simple, I think. Just a single flower, that's all I want."

He nodded and Katniss watched, enthralled, as his hand started to fly across the paper. After a few moments, she couldn't help but return her attention to the stunning artwork on Jo's side. "Did Peeta do that?" she asked her.

"He designed it. He didn't do it."

"Jo won't let me touch her," Peeta said, not looking up from his pad. "She's worried that if I do, she'll fall irrevocably in love with me."

"Fuck you, Mellark," laughed Jo, raising the bottle of beer back to her lips.

It took Katniss a moment or two to realise that 'Mellark' must be Peeta's surname. Her nerves began to increase when she realised that she hadn't actually seen any of Peeta's tattoo work, and she was about to allow him to permanently etch something into her skin.

"Can I see any examples of your work?" she asked him, annoyed at how nervous her own voice sounded.

"Have a look in my bag," Peeta said, indicating a large, canvas satchel by the sofa. "My portfolio's in there."

Katniss quickly stood up and riffled through the bag, pulling out a black folder. Inside was page upon page of beautifully mounted photographs, each showing an incredibly intricate tattoo. Straight away one of the photographs caught her eye. It was a man's left forearm, covered with a lush, verdant meadow filled with flowers of every description, including a perfectly formed, yellow primrose.

"You did that yourself?" Katniss asked, looking over to where Peeta sat, drawing.

A shy smile upturned the corners of his mouth and he nodded. "Only from the elbow down," he said. "But yeah." He continued drawing a few moments longer before he added, "Play your cards right, and maybe I'll show you some of my other self pieces."

Jo snorted loudly, and Katniss felt her face flood with heat.

After a few minutes, Peeta took off his glasses, placing them on top of his head, stood up and crossed over towards her, handing her the notepad. There were three different drawings on the pad, each more beautiful and detailed than the last. "I know you said you wanted something completely plain," he said, pointing to a single flower, "so I've done that, but I think it looks a little better with at least a few leaves surrounding it. Or even a little more stylised, with the swirls."

Katniss looked over the three designs on the paper. And instantly she knew that Peeta was correct—the design with the leaves was perfect. "That's the one," she said, pointing to it, and feeling the sudden need to blink back tears.

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

"And where are you having it?"

Almost unthinkingly, she placed her hand just above her right hip.

"Colour, or black and white?"

Katniss thought about the love, joy and laughter that Prim brought to the lives of everyone around her. "Colour," replied Katniss. "Definitely colour."

"Do you want it outlined in black to make it bolder?"

"I think so, yes."

"Size?"

Katniss looked at the design on the page. "This is already the perfect size," she said.

"Ok," he grinned. "Let's get to it." He returned to his seat, putting his glasses back on, and pulled out a sheet of what looked like tracing paper, and stencilled his design onto it. "Who is your favourite band or singer, by the way?" he asked as he worked.

"Is this more of the 'deep stuff,' as you call it?" asked Katniss.

Peeta's smile widened at Katniss' rebuttal, and Katniss felt herself melt a little at the sight. "I like to try and make my clients feel as relaxed as possible, and having their favourite music playing helps," he explained.

"In that case, Nina Simone."

"I think I can manage that," he said, finishing up with the tracing paper. He grabbed the TV remote from Jo and turned the television off, ignoring her protests. A look of concentration crossed his face as he took out his phone. "Is a 'Best Of' ok? That's all I've got on here."

"Perfect," replied Katniss, touched by his thoughtful gesture. As _My Baby Just Cares For Me _started, Katniss felt herself begin to relax at last.

"And Jo, seriously, I'll need the sofa. You'll have to move."

"I'll move _when_ you need it," she said, taking another lazy swig of her beer.

Peeta rolled his eyes, and began to set up his equipment one piece at a time. Firstly he vanished into a different room then returned, rolling in a metal trolley. On this trolley was a box of latex gloves, bottles of ink, a jar of Vaseline, some wooden spatulas, and something resembling a gun, with a thick wire leading to a pedal, and another leading to a plug. Peeta picked up the plug first, plugging it straight into a socket by the wall. He then donned a pair of latex gloves and picked up a small, sealed packet containing a needle. He opened this, attaching it directly to the end of the gun. Next, he set up four small pots and squeezed some ink into each—black, white, green, yellow.

"Jo. Move."

She grinned, then stuck her middle finger up at him and strode from the room.

"I'm sorry about her. She's actually really nice, when she's not being the rudest bitch you've met. Anyway. I'll umm… I'll need you to undo your jeans and roll the top of them down a little. And lift your top up for me too. And lie down here when you're ready. I'm sorry I don't have a proper chair at the moment, but they usually come with the studio."

She kicked off her shoes and did precisely as he asked, eternally grateful that she had worn a pair of very delicate black lace panties rather than the old but comfy white granny pants she had considered that morning. He rested beside her on the coffee table, and Katniss was certain that she saw a look of approval pass over his eyes at what he could see. She only flinched very slightly when he cleaned the area down with a lubricating wipe, and took out a disposable razor blade to quickly shave the area. After spraying the spot above her hip with a disinfectant spray, he placed the tracing paper over her skin. "Here?" he asked. She nodded her confirmation, and he placed the paper against her skin, holding it down on her for a few moments. When he took it away, the design was left behind on her skin. He placed a little Vaseline over the design using the wooden spatula, spreading the ointment thinly over her skin.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she said.

"Just try to relax," he said soothingly.

"You too, ok?" she said, and he grinned in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, before dipping the edge of the needle gun into the black ink pot.

He worked quickly and surely, pausing every now and again to check that Katniss was ok. It hurt more than she had expected it to and very soon she was drenched in sweat. How Peeta had managed to have his entire arm covered, she didn't know.

"Wait just one second," Peeta said, standing up and pulling the latex gloves from his hands. He vanished into his kitchenette and came back a few seconds later carrying a bag of sherbet lemons. "Here," he said, offering her the sweets. "I know you try not to eat sugar or whatever, but it'll help, trust me." When she hesitated, he added, "Your blood sugar will have dropped, and that makes you even more receptive to pain. Trust me."

"Thanks," she said, taking the bag from him and popping one in her mouth.

Peeta donned a fresh pair of gloves and continued working, and somehow he had been right. It didn't seem to hurt as much as before. She watched him work and smiled to herself at the adorable level of concentration he displayed: his tongue poked out very slightly from the corner of his mouth, and every now and then he would pause to push his glasses further up his nose.

"So, why a primrose specifically?" Peeta asked her as he finished the last of the black outline.

Katniss paused before speaking. "It's in memory of my sister," she said at last.

Peeta paused as he took the needle out of the gun, replacing it with a fresh one. "I'm so sorry," he said. "What happened?"

She took a deep breath, unsure whether or not she should tell him. But she saw no reason to hide anything from him at all. "She was murdered," said Katniss at last.

Peeta's eyes flew wide open, his mouth hanging open. "Shit, Katniss. Fuck. I'm… fuck. I'm sorry."

"It's ok," said Katniss. "Well, it's not. But it's getting better. Thanks to you and your persuasive tongue. It's taken me nine years to be able to say her name without breaking down, and that's because of you making me take that first step for getting therapy."

"Fuck," he breathed again. "Did they ever catch who did it?"

"Kind of," answered Katniss. "She was killed in the 7th July bombings."

"Fuck," repeated Peeta. "I can't even… Fuck."

"Stop it," said Katniss. "It'll never stop hurting, but… I'm coping better in the last few weeks than I have in years. And I want you to finish this for me. For Prim."

He nodded silently, and began to work on the colouring, and Katniss was fascinated by how he managed to create such delicate shading using just a couple of colours. He stayed silent for the next twenty minutes, when he gently wiped the tattoo once more, placed his glasses on top of his head, then announced, "It's finished."

Katniss looked down at the delicate flower that she now would wear on her skin for the rest of her life. "It's perfect, thank you."

"Just a sec," he said, before he covered the tattoo with cling-film, taping it down with surgical tape. "Keep it covered for at least the next five hours, but no more than eight, then gently wash it with non-alcoholic soap and warm water. Pat it dry, don't rub it." He then handed her a tube of cream. "Use this on it three times a day. And don't scratch or pick, no matter how tempting it is."

"Thank you," she repeated. "What do I owe you for this?"

"Nothing," said Peeta quietly. "You don't owe me anything."

"Peeta," said Katniss, her voice serious. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," he repeated, running his hands over his face. "You were doing me a favour. And this is my gift to you. I wish I could do more."

Katniss sat up, careful not to dislodge the bandage over her new tattoo. Peeta looked utterly shell-shocked, and she began to wonder if he had lost someone that day too.

"Peeta?" she said, leaning forward very slightly. "Are you ok?"

He nodded, an unreadable look still on his face. "Which site was she at?"

"Russell Square. Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've just... I've never met anyone who lost someone that day. It's just a bit of a shock." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and rubbed his hands over his face once more.

Katniss felt terrible for being the bearer of such bad news and being responsible for his current mood. But she also felt a surge of affection for him for being so concerned and compassionate. She looked down once more at the fresh tattoo over her hip. Prim would have adored Peeta, but the realisation didn't make Katniss sad and angry for her sister; it merely made her desire the man in front of her even more.

She very gently ran her fingers over the bandage. "Thank you for this," she said quietly. "Thank you so much." She gently snaked her hand behind him, running her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, and leant in towards him. Her lips ghosted over his, while her other hand came up to cup his chin. In all her years, she had never once kissed a bearded man, but it felt completely right and natural. She opened her mouth a little wider, and felt a rush of excitement as his lip stud brushed along the sensitive flesh of her inner lower lip.

"Katniss," he whispered into her, as she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips.

"You make me feel human again, Peeta," she said, pressing a series of kisses along his jawline, until she captured his earlobe between her lips. She was unsurprised to find a series of rings through his ears, and gently tugged at one with her teeth. She was rewarded with a deep, throaty moan.

She felt his strong hands on her shoulders and whined with frustration as he gently pushed her away from him. "Katniss, wait," he said, his voice breathy. "I'm not…"

"You don't want me?"

"Yes," he said. "God, yes. But… I'm not…"

"What?"

"Katniss, I can't be another version of therapy for you. I have enough problems of my own, and I can't… I want you to want me because you want me. Not because you think I might be able to save you."

"It's not like that," she assured him. "You're a good person, Peeta. Anyone could see that. And good people have a habit of worming their way into my heart and staying there. But for now, I want you. You want me. That's all there is to it. Now kiss me."

His trademark shy smile appeared on his face and this time he took the lead, gently cupping her face in his right hand and drawing her towards him. Their lips met, warm and wet, and Katniss could taste the unfamiliar bittersweet tang of the lager on his tongue.

She experimentally tried to find the ball of his piercing with her own tongue, and as she gently probed and moved the smooth, metal ball, Peeta groaned loudly into her, dropping his hand to cup one of her breasts.

Katniss gasped as his fingers pinched her sensitive nipple through the thin fabric of her top and bra, and felt a wet warmth pool between her legs.

"Do you want to go to my room?" he spoke softly into ear. "Jo will probably come back in here soon and—"

"Yes," whispered Katniss.

He stood up and Katniss couldn't help but notice the very prominent bulge in his jeans, and her heart started to beat faster at the thought of seeing him naked.

"Ummm, I should warn you, my room's not really... I mean—"

"Just take me," Katniss interrupted, forcing her gaze upwards and away from his very obvious erection.

He took hold of her hand and led her out of the living room and into a small hallway, opening the first door on the right and stepping inside.

His bedroom was even more cramped than the tiny living room. A single bed took up most of one wall, and a clothes rail took up most of another. Next to the bed was a chest of drawers, leaving only a few square feet of floor space.

Before he could begin to be embarrassed, Katniss grabbed hold of the front of Peeta's shirt and manoeuvred him backwards a couple of steps so that she could shut the door behind them.

She had to see more of his flesh, and pushed his shirt down over his arms, admiring only for a second how the t-shirt he wore underneath was stretched tight across his chest, before she grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head.

Peeta's body was like a canvas. Covering most of the front of his right shoulder and chest was a stormy sky, clouds rolling in, and rain lashing down over a sailing frigate ship. The ship rode a wave that was being poured from a delicate cup.

"A storm in a teacup?" she asked, running her fingers over the design, and he nodded. She trailed her fingers lower, over the light covering of hair that covered his tight abdominals, and she pulled very gently at the silver ring that went through his belly button, delighting in the low whine that came from him.

"You like it when I play with your piercings?" she asked him teasingly. He nodded, his eyes falling closed as she continued to tug at the piece of jewellery.

She wanted to spend more time admiring him, but Peeta clearly had other plans. In one deft movement, he pulled her top over her head and reached behind her, undoing the clasp on her bra with just one hand. She felt a rush of warmth between her legs at his undeniable skill, and shrugged the piece of underwear to the ground, standing before him semi-naked.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he breathed, his eyes roving over breasts. "May I?"

A half smile uplifted her mouth and she nodded. At her invitation, Peeta gently ran his hands over her, teasing her nipples into swollen, hard peaks, before his hands drifted lower. He carefully avoided going too close to her fresh tattoo, then reached for her jeans, undoing them and pushing them down over hips. He knelt before her and placed a kiss just below her belly button, then hooked his fingers through the waistband of her panties, pulling them down, so that she was stood before him completely naked.

"Fuck," he whispered, and his awe of her was apparent in every subtle nuance of his voice. He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her belly, slowly dragging his lips and tongue over her moistened skin before climbing to his feet.

The look he gave her was full of wanton lust, and Katniss felt butterflies in her stomach. No one had ever looked at her that way before, but before she could get too used to his appraising stare, he pushed her backwards so that she was leaning against his door, and took both her hands in his left one, pinning them above her head. He then put his leg in between hers, forcing her to spread them, before he captured her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. As he teased her with his tongue, he dropped his right hand between her legs, languidly stroking her centre. Katniss felt her knees buckle, but he held her in place, as his touch sent tremors reverberating through her entire body. His mouth sought out other places to kiss, and he lathed the crook of her neck with his tongue.

"Peeta," she gasped, her eyes falling closed, as his fingers circled her clit. Her breathing was becoming fast and shallow, and a tingling heat began to spread from her centre. She shifted the angle of her hips just slightly, just so that Peeta's fingers stroked the exact right spot, and was almost at the point of no return, when he suddenly stopped his ministrations.

"What are you...?" she whined, opening her eyes. The blue of Peeta's eyes was almost entirely swallowed by the black of his dilated pupils, and a sly grin crossed his face, as he lowered himself to the floor.

At first, Katniss wanted to giggle as the soft hairs of his beard tickled her inner thighs, but then he ran his tongue along her folds and she lost all conscious thought.

"Fuck!" she cried out, as the ball of his piercing ran repeatedly over her clit. She cleanched her fists tightly into his hair, holding him in place as his tongue flicked over her.

She almost buckled once again when Peeta slid two fingers inside of her, curling them forward, while at the same time he groaned, the deep sound of his voice sending vibrations directly to her core.

"Peeta," she whispered, grinding her hips against his face, sharply inhaling as his piercing darted back and forth over her clit.

He was relentless in his efforts and an intense pressure soon began to build within her, curling outwards in waves.

He changed tactics, slowing down, with long, languid strokes, and the change in speed was precisely what she needed. She pulled on his hair, bringing him even closer into her, as her orgasm crashed through her. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from screaming, as wave after wave of pleasure spread from her centre.

As he pulled away from her, her legs finally gave way and she slid down his door, collapsing in a heap on the floor, feeling utterly boneless.

"You ok?" he asked her.

She couldn't speak straight away, but instead grinned languidly at him. "That was…just…_fuck,_ Peeta."

"I really want you," he said. "If that's ok?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "I can't move, though."

She felt an arm hook under her legs, while another wrapped around her waist. "Put your arms around my neck," he instructed her, and she did as he asked.

He lifted her as though she were almost weightless, and laid her gently upon his bed. Katniss raised her arms above her head and squirmed pleasurably, still tingling from her orgasm, as Peeta undid his jeans. She sat up to watch as he pulled them, along with his boxer briefs, down over his hips, and licked her lips at the sight of his thick, hard cock.

Her eyes were drawn to his artificial limb, and she consciously stopped herself from staring.

"It's ok," said Peeta, catching her eye as he stepped out of his jeans. "You can look. To be honest, I'd find it stranger if you didn't look. If you were trying to pretend that nothing was different."

"Can I touch it?" asked Katniss, curiosity getting the better of her. Peeta nodded and Katniss reached forward, running her hand along the cool metal.

"Fuck me, that feels good," Peeta breathed, and Katniss looked up at him in confusion, before he laughed a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm kidding," he said. "No need to look so worried. Although… I'd have preferred it if you'd touched something else."

She felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and mumbled an apology.

"Don't be sorry," he said then inhaled sharply when Katniss leant forward, and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock. She determined to make up for her terribly awkward moment, and judging by his reaction, it was working. She ran her fingers along his length, slowly drawing her thumb over the head. Peeta shallowly thrust his hips into her hand, a keening moan coming from him. Suddenly, he pushed her hand away and perched on the edge of the bed next to the chest of drawers, and opened the top drawer, withdrawing a box of condoms a few moments later. Katniss surreptitiously wiped her hand on the duvet cover and took the opportunity to study him once more.

There was hardly a part of him that didn't have a colourful tattoo covering it. Anything from brightly coloured cartoon characters to plain black script and everything in between. But what caught her eye the most was his back. It was a tattoo of a black-and-white bird with outstretched wings, clutching an arrow in its claws. Katniss ran her hand over the image, and it took her breath away. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Thanks," he chuckled, as he took a condom from the box and tore open the foil packet. "It's one of the very first things I ever designed. I wanted something that represented protection. Speaking of which—" he said, rolling the condom down over his cock, "—we're ready to go."

She lay back on the bed, as Peeta climbed over her. He supported his weight on his hands, the tip of his cock quivering at her entrance. "Do it," she begged him, grasping his firm ass in her hands, and trying to pull him down towards her.

But he resisted her, and shook his head very slightly. "Not like this," he said. "Roll onto your left side." She did as he told her, and felt him settle himself behind her. "I don't want to cause too much friction here," he said, resting his hand on the very edge of her bandage. "I don't want to do anything that could badly affect it."

There wasn't much room on the small single bed, and Katniss worried that she was going to fall off the edge, but Peeta threw a strong arm over her waist, pulling her close to him. She rolled her hips back into him, feeling his erection pressing into her ass, and silently guided him towards her wet centre.

As he pushed into her, she lost all conscious thought once again. She tightened her muscles around his considerable girth, causing them both to moan in unison.

As he thrust into her, he placed a series of kisses along her neck and shoulders, wetting her skin and then gently blowing on it, causing her to shiver with the sensation. "Peeta," she moaned, as his kisses travelled up her neck, and he gently nibbled on her earlobe. "Peeta, _fuck_...yes!"

Every single one of her moans and groans seemed to encourage him further, making him push deeper into her, making his hands explore more and more of her body, and making each of his kisses more passionate and desperate than the last.

She was getting close again. "Please, touch me..." she begged him, and was rewarded when she felt his fingers reach between her legs, grazing along her most sensitive nub of flesh.

She reached behind her, grabbing hold of his ass, his thighs, any part of him that she could reach, and soon he was thrusting into her with abandon.

"Katniss..." he whispered in her ear. "Fuck, I'm gonna come..."

He thrust into her one last time, and Katniss quickly rolled her hips, causing just enough friction from his fingers to bring her own pleasure to a peak. Her heart was racing as the pulsing at her core sent a mix of fire and ice coursing through her veins, touching every last nerve in her body, turning her into nothing but pure sensation.

They lay together for a while, the only sounds that of their heavy breathing and pounding hearts.

"Thank you," Katniss breathed. "Thank you."

Peeta placed one more languid, contented kiss on the back of Katniss' head, then raised himself up on one arm, gently sliding himself out of her. She shivered slightly from the lack of contact, the sweat on her body already evaporating and rapidly cooling her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Peeta cleaning himself up with some tissue, and sighed happily when he lay back down beside her.

"Stay here tonight?" he asked her.

She thought about her huge, king-sized memory foam mattress at home, with the soft, plump pillows that supported every single inch of her body, and always guaranteed a perfect night's sleep. But she knew how lonely that bed would feel after tonight, and would much prefer to sacrifice comfort for Peeta's warm company. "Yes," she answered him.

He squeezed her a little tighter around her waist, and nuzzled into the back of her neck. "And...every night?" he asked her jovially.

She chuckled sleepily, and brought his fingers up to her lips, kissing each and every one. "Always," she answered him.

* * *

><p><em>One Year Later...<em>

Katniss was in a desperate hurry, and she cursed to herself as she spilled a few drops of the boiling hot tea she had purchased. Her rehearsals were starting in just under twenty minutes, and The Panem had hired a new pianist to work with her, so it was utterly essential that she was not late, otherwise they may not have time to get up to scratch for his first night on Saturday.

However, it was just as important to her that she stop by the studio beforehand to see Peeta.

She arrived and looked in through the window to see Peeta hanging a few last pictures on the wall, then pushed the door open.

"It's looking great in here," she said to him. "Will you be ready in time for tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," he said. "There's actually very little left to do. I just need to move the chair into the back studio, then hang a few more pictures and I'm done."

Katniss handed him the cup of takeaway tea, which he gratefully accepted. "Thank you so much," he said, taking the tea from her. He carefully took the lid off and blew on the piping hot liquid, taking a tiny sip. "Thank you for everything," he said.

"Don't mention it," she said.

"I mean it, Katniss. I don't know how this would have been possible without you."

Katniss perched on the edge of the fully adjustable hydraulic tattoo chair that currently sat in the middle of the reception room and looked around. For the longest time, Peeta had resisted her offer to help him set up his own business, insisting that he would find a way to raise the capital himself. But eventually she had worn him down, convincing him that it was as much in her interest as it was his. And one day, after months of pressure, he had agreed to let her invest in him.

She thought about how much her life had changed over the past year, and her hand automatically dropped to the small primrose tattoo above her right hip. Prim would have been so thrilled to see her so settled, so successful, but above all, so happy. '_For you, Prim,'_ she thought.

"Did you see it on your way in, by the way?" Peeta asked her excitedly, placing the cup of tea down on the floor.

"See what?" Katniss asked.

He grinned and took her by the hand, leading her outside, then pointed to a sign above the window, designed unmistakably by Peeta's hand—_Everlark Tattoo Parlour_, written in a beautiful script. Next to the writing was a drawing of a primrose, the same tattoo that Peeta had given to Katniss a year earlier. "It arrived first thing this morning. I couldn't wait to get it up." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. "I really think I can make a go of this," he said to her. "I promise I'll make you proud. For her."

Katniss re-read the sign and thought once more about Primrose Everdeen. It had been ten years since she had passed, and in those ten years, almost everything she had done had been for Prim. It was about time that changed. "No," said Katniss, turning back to the man she loved. "Do it for _us_."


End file.
